Mistletoe
by lilyjack00
Summary: Matt Dillon shoved open the front doors of the Long Branch, striding in with a blast of frigid air and swirling snowflakes. The raucous pounding of the piano keys stopped, partygoers froze, crystal punch cups or beer mugs hung in mid-air, mouths gaped at the sight he made.
1. Chapter 1

Mistletoe  
Chapter 1  
by lilyjack

_This story is dedicated to my wonderful Gunsmokegirlz, the wackiest buncha reprobate cowgirls slash emergency rescue squad team members ever to hook up on the Information Highway. Grab yer little black books, yer punch, and the getaway ass and let's hit the dusty trail, girlfriendz!_

The bitter, biting bitch of a north wind lashed out across the barren prairie with punishing surges of snow that blinded a man and burned his skin raw as it pelted him mercilessly with its icy crystalline flakes. Pretty to look at, but not so pretty if you're caught right smack dab in the middle of it. The relentless swirling drifts over the path slowed the lone lawman's already lengthy journey home. Shivering even beneath his heavy woolen coat and scarf, all he could think about was a hot cup of coffee, a roaring fire, and a soft, warm woman's body to curl up next to.

And not just any woman, no sirree. A very particular woman whose flaming hair, fiery temper and burning passion had kept him going through this long, miserable ride in the cold, dark night, when he should have holed up out of the elements hours ago if he'd had a lick of sense. But she was expecting him, and it was Christmas Eve.

Kitty Russell had thrown a party at the Long Branch Saloon every year at Christmas for more years than he cared to remember, Matt Dillon thought as he shifted his weight painfully in the saddle to relieve the pressure on his stiff, aching hip. And he sure as heck didn't intend this year to be the first time he missed it. She'd be fit to be tied. Not to mention how worried she'd be since he was caught out in this dadblame snowstorm. Kitty was one tough lady, but he also knew she wouldn't rest easy until he was home safe and sound.

Those yearly parties were a tradition at the Long Branch. A place for people to celebrate the holidays if they didn't have family of their own. Family... Over the years, Kitty and Doc, Festus and Newly, why, they'd become his family. It wouldn't seem like Christmas without them. Kitty knew what it felt like to have an adopted family of sorts, and she made sure that anyone who needed a place to go to on Christmas was invited. The drifters, the loners, the derelicts-Louie Pheeters, bless 'im- they would all be welcome at the Long Branch to have a glass of punch, liberally flavored with a splash of strong whiskey, of course, a good meal, and the company of fellow fringe society members with little or no blood ties. A motley crew, to be sure, but they always had a fine time of it.

So Matt Dillon tipped the brim of his hat further over his eyes to protect his face from the blustery white whirlwind surrounding him and gently spurred Buck to move a little faster so they could make it back home to Dodge in time for a party. He'd always heard the old saying, "Home is where the heart is." Well, that pretty well sealed it. That good-lookin', big-hearted saloonkeeper had held his own heart securely for a good many years now, so home was wherever Kitty Russell laid down her head.

ljljljljlj

That good lookin' lady saloon owner checked the small timepiece that hung on a delicate gold chain from around her neck for the dozenth time in less than an hour. She sat at a table with Doc and Festus near the center of the room where she could keep an eye on the punchbowl and the platters of food to see that they were replenished regularly, and she could also keep a wary lookout on the front doors for the arrival of a certain tall, broad-shouldered guest.

"Kitty, he'll make it, you know he will," Doc consoled his companion gently.

Festus joined in, "Why, I bet ol' Matthew is nearly back from Hays already. He'll be leavin' his horse over t' Moss Grimmick's and skedaddlin' over here to yor party afore you kin say Hildegard Bahootsifite!"

Doc eyed his friend askance. "Hilde...what?"

"Hildegard Bahootsifite. That's my cousin on my ma's side. She ain't a Haggen, see, but I tell you what, she oughta be. Why, one time..."

"Oh! Festus don't start with one of your crazy stories about your kinfolk. The party'll be over by the time you get finished!"

"Why, you mean ol'...!" Festus began sputtering. "This here's the Christmas season. Whatever happened to pieces of good will and earth over the men? Ain't you got no heart a'tall?"

Doc did a double take. "Festus, I may not have any heart, but at least I've got a brain. That's not how that goes! Pieces of good will. Why, I never..."

Kitty rolled her eyes, then suddenly froze, listening hard. "Boys, hush up a minute. Did you hear...?"

Years of watching and waiting for Matt Dillon to return home had honed her senses, especially her hearing, to the sounds he made that were different from other men. Working in a saloon full of men all day long, day in and day out, it was hard, but Kitty Russell knew when it was Marshall Matt Dillon who'd sauntered up behind her, and not some smelly cattle hand or fancy pants gambler. She'd turn and greet her secret lover with a bright smile that made his eyes shine softly in return. She'd revel in the feel of his hand warmly sliding to the small of her back, one of the few touches between them he allowed himself in public.

Kitty luxuriated in his searching glance whenever he entered the Long Branch at the swinging doors, seeking her out, his gaze lighting on her and making her stomach flutter and her knees weak, even after all these years. She'd give him a slow smile in return, their eyes saying everything and nothing because of all the people surrounding them.

And now, Kitty Russell could distinguish the tread of his big booted footsteps on the boardwalk outside, even through the howling wind of the snowstorm. She held her breath, praying hard for a minute. Praying that Matt Dillon had made it home to her one more time, safe and sound.

tbc

ljljljljlj


	2. Chapter 2

Mistletoe  
Chapter 2  
by lilyjack

ljljljljlj

Matt Dillon shoved open the front doors of the Long Branch, striding in with a blast of frigid air and swirling snowflakes. The raucous pounding of the piano keys stopped, partygoers froze, crystal punch cups or beer mugs hung in mid-air, mouths gaped at the sight he made. Realizing he'd startled everyone with his appearance, the marshal of Dodge City tugged his frozen scarf off his ruddy face and scrubbed the icicles out of his brows and hair, exclaiming, "Did I miss the party?"

A hearty shout went up in the room as he was recognized at last, folks rushing over to pound him on the back, shake his hand and wish him a very Merry Christmas indeed, as he tried to see beyond the crowd, tried in vain to spot her. Amidst the friendly ruckus, he somehow managed to remove his hat, gloves and overcoat which some young cowhand eagerly took from the legendary lawman to hang up close to the stove to dry. Someone else thoughtfully placed a well-earned glass of good whiskey into his cold hands.

And when the crowd finally parted, Matt Dillon's eyes rested at last on his best girl, of some, what...? How many years? Could it be that long they'd been together? Kitty Russell was sittin' pretty as a picture in a flaming red dress that made his breath catch in his throat, right next to a grinning Doc and Festus, a tiny crooked smile on her lips and a look in her blue, blue eyes that said it all.

Kitty wouldn't make a fuss, jumping up and gushing over him like a lotta women would. But he knew just how she felt. Her expression spoke volumes to him without saying a word. The look in her eyes did more to warm up the shivering lawman than the heat of the stove or the whiskey that was burning a fiery path down his raw throat at that instant.

His eyes steadily on his lady in red, the marshal absent-mindedly handed off his half-empty shotglass to an unsuspecting Louie Pheeters who happened to totter by at that moment, vociferously singing a Christmas carol monumentally off-key. Louie curiously watched Marshal Dillon walk away without a word, then shrugged and tossed the rest of the marshal's drink back. Resuming his song with renewed vigor, a well-oiled Louie made his precarious way to the bar where he threw an arm companionably around a grinning Sam Noonan's shoulders.

Free at last of distractions, Matt strode purposefully toward Kitty's table, thumbs resting lazily in his gun belt. She greeted him in a low voice with a gentle smile, "Welcome home, Matt."

Doc and Festus stood and shook his hand vigorously as he gave a broad grin. He pulled out a chair next to Kitty and hitched up his pants legs to settle in comfortably, close enough so that his knee barely brushed against hers.

Doc smacked the table with one hand, exclaiming, "Glad you could make it, Matt!" as Sam delivered a double shot of good Kentucky bourbon to the marshal, and he downed it gratefully in one swallow.

"_You're_ glad?" Matt blew out an enormous breath. "It's terrible out there. I know I look a little trail worn, Kitty, but I didn't have time to get gussied up in my Sunday best."

She threw her head back and laughed merrily, and the comforting, happy sound settled in his empty belly, laying there alongside the whiskey where they both warmed him to the core. "That's alright, Matt," she murmured to him with a little lift of her brow. "I'll take you just the way you are."

She patted his arm amiably, but her touch was electric and sent a shiver down his spine that had nothing to do with the weather outside. _How many years?_ he thought wryly, _and her touch still does that to me_. He chuckled to himself.

"What?" she asked curiously, her fingers absently threading through a loose curl at her ear. She murmured her thanks to one of her girls who delivered a round of generously spiked eggnog to everyone at the table.

"Nuthin'..." he smiled, but in his lop-sided grin she recognized her answer, and thought maybe he'd tell her more later when she got him alone upstairs.

She smothered her own knowing smile, instead asking, "Anyone care to make a toast?"

The piano player launched into a particularly thunderous chorus of Jingle Bells, to which half the crowd enthusiastically joined in with varying degrees of ability. Doc cleared his throat and volunteered loudly, "I will..." Lifting his glass, Doc spoke with a genuine smile reflected in his eyes, "To good friends and good health... Merry Christmas!"

Clinking crystal accompanied their heartfelt rejoinder, "Merry Christmas!"

Matt took a long draw from his cup and wiped away the milky mustache on his upper lip, grinning like a kid. Kitty eyed him closely, asking, "Matt, how long has it been since you've eaten? I hope you're not drinkin' all that liquor on an empty stomach."

"Kitty, I'm so hungry I could eat a horse."

"Oh boy," she sighed, grabbing the nearest saloon girl and asking her to fetch Matt a plate of food. "We'll get you fixed up in a jiffy, Marshal Dillon."

Doc grinned, "Yeah, gotta feed a growing boy." Festus cackled gleefully in appreciation.

"Aw, Doc," Matt grimaced at him. "Why don't you pick on somebody your own size?"

"Well, that wouldn't be you, that's for sure," Doc chuckled good-naturedly at his old friend, giving his own ear a quick tug. Kitty just shook her head at the bunch of them.

Squinting an eye at Doc, Festus interjected, "Well, my cousin Hildegard might give old Matthew a run fer his money. Why, I tell you she had the biggest..."

"Oh heavens," Doc blustered, "here we go again!"

"Again?" Matt asked. "I don't think I've ever heard him talk about somebody named Hildegard before. I think I'd remember that."

Kitty leaned closer to explain to Matt their earlier discussion regarding Festus's relations. And suddenly the room grew still and quiet.

Matt looked around curiously, searching for the source of the quietus and watched Festus's eyes grow wide while Doc hid a smile with a swipe at his mustache. Then everyone around them erupted in whistles and catcalls as Matt and Kitty finally detected Louie Pheeters standing unsteadily behind their chairs. The inebriated little man grinned from ear to ear, a large sprig of green with white berries in the trembling hand he was holding above their heads. Mistletoe.

Kitty's eyes sparkled mischievously at him as she wondered just what her flustered marshal would do. She shrugged her shoulders helplessly. "Don't look at me!" she laughed. "It wasn't my idea. Festus shot it down out of a tree this evenin' before he came to the party."

Festus hurriedly examined the scuffs on his boots when Matt threw a long-suffering stare his way.

Kitty continued matter-of-factly, "I bet I've had to kiss nearly every gent in the Long Branch tonight." A chorus of enthusiastic shouts and glasses rose up at that instant, proof of her words, and Matt couldn't help but laugh as they pointed with glee to their own jaws or foreheads, where pale, smeared crimson lip prints lay. He couldn't believe he hadn't noticed it until now. He figured he'd just had eyes for one thing since he walked in.

Matt looked across the table at Doc and Festus, each cagily giving the other the eye, which told him they'd gotten their fair share of Kitty's kisses as well. He should've noticed those red smudges on their cheeks matched the color of Kitty's painted lips. _Those old rascals. _

Matt gave an enormous sigh, rising to his full, impressive height, and for an instant, Kitty was afraid he might head for the hills. But instead, he looked down at her and reached for her hand. She stood uncertainly before him, gazing back into his crystal clear blue eyes, and for once, she didn't know what on earth her man was thinking. Was he going to let her kiss him on the cheek right there in front of everybody? _That'd be the day_, she thought drily.

You could've heard a pin drop, with everyone wondering what ol' Marshal Dillon would do. Then he smiled his crooked little smile, and Kitty could see a tiny bit of that liquid courage he'd been drinking licking through his veins, so she played her advantage and leaned in quick to give him a harmless peck on the cheek, just like she'd given all the other boys.

But Matt Dillon had other plans. She gave a small gasp when his powerful arms determinedly enveloped her, sliding over that softly gleaming crimson silk dress he'd so admired when he walked in. He gently bent her back as his lips captured hers in a passionate kiss that took her breath clean away. She melted into his embrace, her knees weakening and her mind whirling at the thought that Marshal Dillon was kissing the daylights out of her right there in the Long Branch in front of everyone, claiming Kitty Russell as his own, for everyone to see. The very idea made her dizzy and finally she surrendered willingly, kissing him back hungrily, slipping her arms around his neck and threading her fingers through his hair until gleeful shouts and whistles erupted from the Long Branch crowd, cheering on the marshal and his fine-looking woman, whose longtime love affair everyone knew was the worst kept secret in all of Kansas.

Kitty was positively breathless when he finally released her, and she couldn't believe it but she felt herself actually blushing as she gazed into his eyes with all those people watching them. But he just beamed at her, although she noticed his own ears were turning pinker by the moment. Matt held her cheek in his palm for just an instant before he kissed her hand like a gentleman.

"Matt..." she murmured wonderingly, but she didn't have a chance to say anything more, not that she knew what she should say, because at that moment Sam, who might've had an even bigger grin on his face than the marshal himself, struck a rousing chord on his fiddle to signal that the dancing was about to commence. Tables and chairs were noisily pulled aside, and the marshal rather bashfully asked his girl to dance.

He wasn't quite sure himself of what to think of this thing he'd gone and done, a bit rashly truth be told, but he gradually relaxed as men shook his hand and pounded on his back again encouragingly. After a couple of dances with her cowboy, Kitty insistently pulled him back to his seat and made him eat before he passed out from sheer hunger.

"It's about time..." was all Doc would say about things, but he hugged Kitty tight, his face flushing, too, when she kissed him on the cheek for the second time that night, this time without benefit of mistletoe. Then he took her for a whirl around the dance floor as well.

Festus, at a complete loss for words for possibly the first time in his entire life, just sat quietly, nursing his eggnog and contemplating recent significant developments within his close circle of confidants, wondering when in tarnation all this funny business had begun...

_TBC, in Chapter 3...if you'd like the celebration to continue upstairs in Kitty's bedroom. If you're not into steamy M/K romances, you can consider this The End. _

ljljljljlj


	3. Chapter 3

Mistletoe  
Chapter 3  
by lilyjack

_This is the PSL* portion of our story, so you may skip this chapter if you're not into that sort of thing._

_*Plotless Sweet Lovin'_

ljljljljlj

Matt grunted tiredly as he stiffly sank onto the rug in front of the fireplace, unwilling to dirty Kitty's nice settee with his trail-dusty backside. Grimacing, he yanked his old boots off one at a time and flexed his toes gratefully in the radiating warmth of the crackling flames. Rolling his shoulders and neck wearily, he groaned as he listened to the sound of his bones angrily cracking and popping. The thought of a good night's sleep after his long, punishing ride from Hays City in the snowstorm was positively balm to his soul, and he sighed at the prospect of curling up next to Kitty in her comfortable brass bed.

The door to Kitty's bedroom cracked open and he heard her voice from the landing outside, "Night, Sam...and Merry Christmas. Be careful going home, you hear?" Then there was a listening pause and she laughed merrily at some remark Sam called up to her, and the sound was like sparkling champagne that Kitty had insisted he drink one New Year's Eve. Just like that fancy drink, her laugh bubbled right up to tickle and warm Matt's insides and make him smile.

He turned his head just in time to see her glide in, her silken dress and petticoats rustling as she walked towards him, the crimson color stunning against her pale skin, fiery hair and vibrant blue eyes, even in the shadowy light provided by the fireplace and a small lamp by the bedside. She smoothed her skirts as she lowered herself gracefully onto the settee and placed a gentle hand on Matt's rough, unshaven cheek. His mouth went dry at the nearness of her, and he marveled that she could still do that to him after the many years they'd been together. He'd always thought Kitty Russell was the prettiest girl he'd ever laid eyes on, and she could still devastate this tough old U.S. Marshall with the smallest of touches and an affectionate glance into his wondering eyes. He was just reminded at how lucky he was to have found such a woman who would put up with him for all this time after all they'd been through.

"Come 'ere, Cowboy..." she instructed, one corner of her mouth knowingly turning up as he scooted over expectantly in front of her feet. He sighed contentedly as her fingers began kneading his neck and broad shoulders, working out the kinks he always managed to get while riding long distances on the prairie. "How's that feel?" she murmured, brushing a hand over his temple and through his thick hair, her breath grazing coolly over his skin. Her only answer was a grunt like a big ol' bear and another sigh as Matt's head rolled until his chin rested on his chest, relaxing and unwinding, slowly but surely as Kitty's hands worked their usual magic on his saddle-weary muscles.

A log shifted in the fireplace and sparks flew in the dimly-lit room. Matt regretfully moved away to add more wood and poke at the embers until it caught fire, the sap sizzling and sputtering as it heated through. As he settled back in front of her, she felt his warm hand on her foot, unfastening delicate buttons with surprising deftness and slipping the leather boot from her aching toes. She made a noise low in her throat as he returned the favor, removing her other boot as well and rubbing her tired feet, his thumbs deliciously massaging her arches, until her eyelids were drifting shut.

Kitty roused a bit when she felt Matt lightly kissing her inner ankle and his hands sliding warmly beneath her petticoats and over her silk stocking-covered calves. She hummed drowsily at the feel of those big, calloused hands, but her eyes flew open when her mischievous cowboy's head also ducked beneath her red silk dress and his fingers began fumbling for the tie on her pantaloons. "Matt Dillon, what on earth...?" she croaked sleepily. She distinctly heard him chuckling from deep within the frilly layers of satin and ruffles and lace.

"I knew you'd had too much to drink tonight... Oh!" She quickly lifted her hips with his insistent prodding and he eagerly slid the frilly garment down her legs, dropping them in a silky puddle on the floor along with their abandoned boots.

His warm lips burned a fiery path slowly up her inner thigh, kissing softly, kissing so very softly, his tongue trailing hotly, until she could no longer sit still. She exclaimed breathlessly, "I thought you were tired...oh my... " Her head fell back against the settee as she reveled in the feel of his scratchy beard against her bare skin, knowing she would pay the price dearly tomorrow with raw whisker burn between her tender thighs, but right now she didn't give a damn because it felt so good, so, so good. She sincerely hoped Sam was headed home by now, because if he wasn't, he could surely hear Kitty Russell was having a high time upstairs at the Long Branch.

She managed to lift her head, fretting in a hoarse whisper, "Matt, I know you can't breathe...you've gotta come out from under...oh...there...right there..." Her breath came in short gasps and her head was swimming at the feel of her man's mouth against her sensitive flesh, but she managed to pull her voluminous skirts higher and bunch them around her waist so he wouldn't suffocate. Oh, stars above, she could just see the headlines in the paper the next day if the marshal of Dodge City smothered to death underneath Kitty Russell's skirts. "Oh, Matt..." she gasped as her fingers fisted helplessly in his hair, the roaring fire warming her naked skin.

Molten to the core, she could feel his scorching breath as he murmured against her throbbing center, "Merry Christmas, Kitten." His hair rakishly rumpled from wickedly burrowing beneath her ladylike skirts, he gazed hotly up at her for just an instant as he drank in the look of passionate abandon he'd elicited on her pretty face. With a dangerous twinkle in his eye and a crooked smile that always proved to be her undoing, he muttered, "You know I love makin' you purr, honey..."

The rest was just a blur afterward, when her big, tough lawman made her shatter into a million pieces with his sweet, tender ministrations, holding her and stroking her and loving her as her body was wracked with wave after wave of powerful sensation that absolutely drained her and left her helpless and trembling.

As she lay back on the settee looking for all the world like a beautiful but wilted crimson red poinsettia, she felt his soft lips brush across her own and then, sweeping her into his powerful arms, he carried her to the bed. Making quick work of the tiny buttons down her back, she sleepily raised her arms as he lifted the dazzling red garment over her head, draping it carefully over a nearby chair. He didn't want to be the ruination of that particular gown because he'd found it so completely captivating. Kitty Russell in that particular dress would be haunting his lonely dreams when he was out on the barren prairie for a long time to come, he was sure.

For the briefest moment, he considered leaving on the remainder of her female unmentionables, but he felt the overpowering urge to smooth his hands over her entire body, lay with her skin to skin and be able to feel her heart beat next to his. And truthfully, by this point in their long relationship, Matt Dillon was an expert at hurriedly removing frilly women's underthings. And so he was able to do so, carefully and gently, like unwrapping a beautiful Christmas package, he thought, pausing only to brush Kitty's tousled curls off her sweat-dampened forehead. He placed a lingering kiss there as she draped her arms limply around his neck. Laying her back on the bed, he admired her creamy nakedness as she stretched her arms languidly above her head on the pillow, waiting patiently for him. He shucked his own pants and underclothes, anxious to taste her tight, pink rosebud nipples in his mouth, slide his palms over every inch of her skin and sheath himself inside her welcoming body.

She'd been watching him for some time through slitted eyelids, but when he stood before her naked as the day he was born she sat up slowly on the edge of the bed. One delicate brow arched as she looked pointedly down. He followed her gaze and saw she was gazing at his sock feet.

"You know, Matt, you always get better traction on the bed sheets when you take those off, remember?"

A slow, lazy grin spread across his face as he answered, "Yeah, you're right, honey." Stripping them off, he stood before her appreciative scrutiny, part of his anatomy standing at rigid attention.

"Mm-mm-mmm," she said as she bit her lip, and called, "C'mere, Cowboy," for the second time that night in a low, inviting voice that made her big, strong lawman shiver in anticipation. She drew him into her arms and nestled her head against his sex, making him groan with the sensory overload—warm breath, soft skin, flowing curls, gentle hands... Then she rained kisses on the impressive, heated silky length of him and suckled him into her mouth, pleasuring her man while his hands tangled in her hair, pins scattering on the floor around them until he gave a hoarse cry for her to stop. Pressing her back against the bed, he covered her with his big body that was as hot as a blast furnace, sliding his hands over her impossibly delicate, dewy skin and touching her everywhere at once as she wrapped her long legs around his waist and whispered urgently, "I want to feel you inside me..."

"I'd be glad to oblige you, little lady" he said with clenched teeth, trying to hold back until he was within her satiny embrace. She made a soft mewling sound as he touched the swollen, tender flesh between her legs and slipped easily into her velvety opening in spite of his size. He kissed her temple and moved slowly to prolong the heady ecstasy.

She breathed deeply as he moved within her body, gazing into his eyes, remembering the first time Matt Dillon had touched her intimately, so many years ago-how it had been a revelation. Who'd have thought that a girl with her background could learn something new about the art of love, but her sweet Cowboy had taught it to her, that's for certain. He was a generous and patient lover who tended to her needs. She'd never even considered that she'd had needs before she met Matt. She realized she'd never really known what love was until she crossed paths with the handsome young marshal of Dodge City. Yes, he had indeed been a revelation to a jaded, gun-shy young lady who'd been forced to use her body to put food in her mouth and a roof over her head, and she shuddered to think what would have become of her if he hadn't come along.

A tear trickled from the corner of her eye down to the pillow as they moved together as one, and he dipped his head low to kiss away the saltiness. "What's the matter, honey?" he murmured, and she was looking into the same sweet, clear blue eyes, fringed with long, thick lashes that she'd fallen in love with a dozen-odd years ago.

Whispering, she answered lightly, "Not a thing..." and tried to laugh, but her breath caught in her throat with another deep stroke of his hard length within her.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and said, "You kissed me in front of everybody tonight, Matt Dillon."

His hips moved slowly, slowly over her, making her gasp while he answered, "I know I did, honey. You're not mad, are ya'?"

"No...Matt..." Her voice was barely a whisper. "You've made me so happy."

Then he reached down and touched her, caressed her just right, making Kitty arch her back and cry out with abandon again, a sound that sent a shiver down his spine and made his toes curl. And when her intimate muscles embraced him tightly, desperately, he was lost, lost in her warmth, hotly spilling his seed inside of his sweet girl. They collapsed, boneless and perspiring, entwined together as he whispered insistently against her temple, "You've always made me happy, Kitty."

"I have?"

He heard the snow and wind still howling outside the bedroom window as he soaked in the sensations that surrounded him-the crackling of the fire casting flickering shadows in the room, the big, warm brass bed, a full, round stomach...but most of all the softness and comfort of Kitty's body lying nestled against him, deliciously skin to skin-always there for him whenever he came back home. He didn't know what he'd do without her. He answered, "Yeah, you have...and I guess it's about time I showed it."

Matt tucked the covers around her, wrapping a long arm around her waist, and whispered, "Goodnight, sweetheart."

"Merry Christmas, Cowboy," she murmured groggily and contentedly drifted off to sleep in his happy embrace.

end

ljljljljlj


End file.
